


The Importance of Eating Fudge

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whiskey fudge, and what it does to detectives. Or does it?</p>
<p>
  <i>So now, Sam was holding a package of whiskey fudge. The man frowned slightly, but then a police constable nearly bumped into him, which reminded him of how bloody late he already was, and all thought about what to do with the sweets was shoved into the corner of his mind labelled “worry about this later”.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Importance of Eating Fudge

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Life on Mars-fic, written back in... October! Be gentle, I was trying out their voices then, and I had no idea what I was doing. :D

Initially, Sam had been at a loss of what to do with the little package he had involuntarily received that morning. He'd been running unusually late, which actually wasn't a surprise, not after he and the Guv had stayed at the pub longer than all the others, and decided afterwards they definitely needed to go and eat something as well (actually, the Guv had decided that; Sam had been too pissed to properly argue and had let Gene drag him along to a rather seedy curry shop, where they had been the only costumers). At the pace he was walking now, it wouldn't have occurred to him that anyone would dare stop him. But no, the smiling young woman had taken the courage from God knows were and shoved a parcel into his hands before he could even blink or let alone object. With a somewhat stunned look and a muttered 'thanks' he had hurried on, and only when he reached the stairs leading up to CID, Sam had bothered to give it a closer look.

Fudge. In fact, it was not just any fudge, it was apparently a special recipe, to celebrate the opening of a new candy shop in the Northern Quarter. So now, Sam was holding a package of whiskey fudge. The man frowned slightly, but then a police constable nearly bumped into him, which reminded him of how bloody late he already was, and all thought about what to do with the sweets was shoved into the corner of his mind labelled “worry about this later”.

***

Sam was reminded of his involuntary booty from the morning when Chris stopped by his desk, informing him that the Guv wanted to see him about a bundle of files related to a recent string of robberies. Chris had stopped mid sentence, his expression brightening suddenly. “Eh boss, can I 'ave one?”

Sam furrowed his brows, momentarily entirely lost. What was he-- and then his eyes fell on the package which he'd carelessly dropped on his desk. “Oh. Er, sure. Go ahead.”

“Cheers boss!” Happy as a kid at Christmas, the younger man picked out one of the bars and was on his way before Sam could ask what exactly it was the Guv needed him for. Chris was so happy, in fact, that he didn't even hear Sam calling after him. Watching his DC leave, he took a few seconds to compose himself. There were days when he actually quite enjoyed the time at CID, but today apparently was no such day. Today, he was tired and off track.

Sam stood, putting together the papers he assumed DCI Hunt wanted to look over, but apparently he wasn't fast enough. “Tyler!” came Gene's unmistakable booming from his office, and Sam rolled his eyes, but made no attempt to hurry up in his search. And ultimately he was interrupted by a voice that brightened his mood immediately. “What's that then, sir?”

He looked up to see Annie standing by his desk, her fingers idly touching the package of whiskey fudge. “Hm? Oh, that. Got it as some sort of opening present. New candy shop somewhere close 'ere, I think.” Sam fingered for another report before adding, “Have one, if you like. Dunno what to do with 'em anyway.”

“Not fond of fudge, are ya?” Annie smiled and took his offer. “You should hurry up by the way, Guv's in a right mood today. Been wanting to see those files a while ago already, but Chris dawdled.”

Ah. That explained the outburst before. “Right, then I'll be on my way. Oh – which files, exactly? Chris didn't say before.” Annie raised an eyebrow, but replied right away “Witness reports an' such. Looks like there's somethin' missin', an' the Guv wants to check it again.”

Now it was Sam's turn to raise an eyebrow, or rather, both of them. Gene, wanting to check on files? That was the moment the DCI chose to rip open his office door. “Do you need a bloody written and perfumed invitation to move your poncy arse into my office, Tyler?!”

With one swift motion Sam scooped together the remaining papers and hurried to follow his Guv's order. Had he missed something, and it was “Actually Give a Damn About Reports”-Day? Ignoring Gene's glare, the smaller man walked past him and into the office, and a moment later the door fell shut, leaving the two of them alone in the smokey room.

“You bellowed?” Sam said, turning to face his DCI, the files clipped under his arm.

“Bloody well did.” Gene growled, stalking past him back to his table. “Somethin' ain't addin' up in this case, an' I want to confirm this....” The Guv fell silent, and it took Sam a moment to notice that he was staring at the files he was holding. “Whozzat?”

“The files you asked for?” Sam asked back, absolutely not feeling like putting up with a Gene Genie in a foul mood. But Gene shook his head and pointed. “I can see that, you git. Whozzat package?”

Package? Sam frowned and looked down at what he was holding. And indeed – he had accidentally brought the whiskey fudge along. That thing must be cursed, following him around and always drawing attention to itself like that. For a moment, Sam even felt jealous. All attention on those bloody sweets. But then he scolded himself mentally for the childish thought. Jesus, he really was off the track today. Maybe it was the weather....

“Oi Gladys, stop starin' holes into me office wall, will ya.” Sam blinked and returned to reality to find his DCI looking at him with a rather strange look on his face. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. 's fudge, whiskey fudge, didn't mean to bring it. Here, the files.” He put them down on Gene's table and turned to leave, but felt a strong hand grab his arm. “You seriously think you can just waltz into my office carryin' a treasure like this an' then leave without sharin'?”

Sam stared at his boss for a moment. Not enough that Gene apparently was starting to obsess over files - a scary though on its own already - now apparently everyone had developed a craving for whiskey fudge. . He, on the other hand, was starting to develop a serious dislike for it. He remembered now that as a child, Sam had hated how it was sticking to his teeth and he'd spend hours trying to peel it all off with his tongue.

Maybe it really was the weather that was making Sam testy this day, but suddenly – despite his grudge against the fudge – he felt he didn't want to give it up without a fight. “You'll have to ask nicely then, Guv. They're mine, y'know.”

Gene's eyes narrowed dangerously. “What was that, Tyler?” Sam yanked his arm again, but no chance. “I said they're mine. Ask nicely, an' I'll think about it.”

He ducked in time to avoid the punch flying towards his face. At the same time Sam pushed himself forward, surprisingly catching Gene off guard. For a few moments they both struggled to keep their balance, and then went down with a crash. Sam grunted and blinked; somehow, he found himself half sitting, half lying on top of his DCI, who looked as dazed as Sam felt. In the back of his mind a little voice was telling him that something was wrong, that this was way beyond the absurdities that happened to him on a daily basis, and that his head was feeling dangerously light, and this definitely was not supposed to happen. The larger part of his mind, however, was occupied with the thought that now, Gene was entirely at his mercy.

“Y'know, actually, you can have one.” Having dropped the package during their fall, Sam now reached over and pulled one bar out of it. The strange thing was, even though he was doing virtually nothing to restrain him, Gene stayed were he was, not even struggling. “I'll give it to you”, Sam continued, his voice softening to a low murmur , “like... so.” Slowly, he moved the bar of fudge towards his superior's face.

This time, it was Gene who caught Sam off guard. Too fast for the latter to react, he reached out and grabbed Sam's arm once again, but didn't change its course. To the contrary, a moment later he had bitten off part of the bar. His eyes, however, remained trained on Sam's, and Sam found himself unable to avert his gaze. Time seemed to come to a halt.

And then it all shattered. Quite literally.

Sam and Gene turned their heads, to see Annie staring at them. She had dropped the tea cup she had intended to bring the Guv. Behind her, Ray was glancing into the office, and his eyes grew larger by the second. He even forgot to chew on his gum.

Sam and Gene stared back at the two, unmoving.

 

***

 

Later that day, the shop owner of a curry place close to the Railway Arms was arrested, on suspicion of using “bloody poofter junkie-'shrooms or summit” as ingredients for his curry.


End file.
